


Five Boyfriends Desire Never Had

by Harukami



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 13:57:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harukami/pseuds/Harukami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aoba's personal guest, and his possible boyfriends.</p><p>A story of one man learning to love himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Boyfriends Desire Never Had

**.One.**

Once, when Aoba is sleepy and unaware he manages to surface. He opens his eyes into the darkness and looks at the flowers blooming on Koujkaku's back. Koujaku's relaxed, sprawled out on their bed in a room which reeks of sex (he closes his eyes and laughs softly), his back rising and falling with slow, easy breaths. Strange, that he can breathe easily even when asleep

He spreads his fingers on Koujaku's back, looks at the paleness of them against the pinks and reds and blacks. The night leaves the room dim and he can't see the full intensity of the colors, which frustrates him. He wants to dig his nails into Koujaku's back and make those flowers bloom red, bright and fierce, but doing that would wake them both, and then he'd be crushed down again. Perhaps that might not be so bad; if he can make Aoba aware of his presence again, perhaps Aoba will acknowledge him; the more attention he gets, the stronger he might get.

But the more Aoba denies him, the more he'd be choked, and if he gives Aoba reason to think he's still around--

He's not good at thinking clearly at these moments. Thinking things through isn't his forte. All he wants is action and reaction, and he makes a choked, angry noise, and curls his fingernails into Koujaku's back, dragging his nails down.

Koujaku jerks awake with a gasp, turns the light on and rolls over. "Aoba, what--"

Aoba hasn't woken yet, though the light's pulling him up. He tries to force Aoba down -- _What are you waking up for? Do you know what time it is, idiot? You tell me to go to sleep enough, so go to sleep yourself, asshole_ \-- and smiles at Koujaku, showing teeth, eyes pale:

"Kou~jaku," he says, in a parody of Ryuuhou's voice, and then he loses control over the body, feels Aoba claw past him and toss him down into the depths. _That's right, I'm here_ , he shouts silently, over the sting. _Think you're safe? I'm here, I'm here, I'm here--_

"Aoba," Koujaku is saying. He's taken Aoba by the shoulders, is shaking Aoba much to Aoba's own surprise. "Wake up."

"Ah -- ah, I'm awake, sorry," Aoba stammers, shocked. He can feel something sticky under his nails and looks down at red streaking his fingertips. _What a beautiful sight._ "Oh my God! Koujaku, I'm sorry, I must have been having a bad dream--"

Koujaku crushes Aoba to his chest, holds him tightly. He doesn't seem to mind the pain, or pay any attention to it. "It's all right," he says. "It's all right now."

 _Is it?_ he asks, into Aoba's subconscious; God knows Aoba won't listen to him. _Is it, though?_

 

**.Two.**

Things have gotten to their worst yet since Clear and Aoba entered a relationship. He's never even got a look at the robot since the two of them hooked up. He knows it's happened, can feel it distantly, but even the air around Clear hums with that invisible music. It's almost a miracle they were able to use Scrap on him in the first place. Those strange chords sink into Aoba's skin and he feels himself thrown down, down, sinking into a sleep so intense he actually gives into it and loses his sense of self.

Clear is usually around. He lives in their house now, eats their food, helps cook, clean, curls around Aoba, finds enthusiasm in the strangest things, or so he understands from Aoba. He wants to come out in those spaces when Clear isn't there -- when Aoba's working, when Clear's out getting his bimonthly diagnostics check, when they can bear to be separated -- but he can't. He doesn't have the energy. The deep quiet pool he's found himself in is too far away to pull himself out of, and even if he contemplates trying to raise his voice, yell _I'm still here, you shit_ , he can't. Even the memory of that music puts him at a foreign peace and he falls back without meaning to.

 _Will I ever be satisfied?_ , is the best he can do, when Aoba is by himself one night and looking at his face in the mirror, just that echo of hurt, a reminder that there are too many tomorrows with Clear where Clear won't change and Aoba will. _Will I always be satisfied?_

 

**.Three.**

Aoba's been easy to influence since coming to Germany. It's not that he doesn't have any reason for happiness -- Noiz, despite his careless attitude and emotionless face and youth, is utterly sincere and serious about treating Aoba with the best respect and in the most romantic manner he can find in himself. Aoba's met Noiz's parents, his brother, has seen everything Noiz is doing with his life at the company. Noiz is a quiet force that's found someone he can dote on and has poured all the energy he spent only on himself into showing another person what he's capable of.

But Aoba doubts it the more for that. Not Noiz's love -- he's aware of that much -- but himself. In comparison, what has Aoba accomplished? Four years older than Noiz, he's Noiz's slum-brat boyfriend lifted out of his filth by the affections of a rich son of a rich family, and dependance is humiliating. He's far from home, and misses his family, and misses his home, and while Aoba wouldn't give up what he has for the world, Aoba hasn't found his feet and he doesn't intend to let Aoba, either.

It's hard to destroy anything secure and strong, so he finds those cracks and whispers into them. Any crack, forced by the wind enough, will widen, and the biggest and strongest buildings will fall if their foundations have good enough cracks. He doesn't think either of them has noticed him; he has been quiet and cautious.

Aoba breaks the kiss with Noiz and tilts his head away, cheeks red, drawing a shuddering breath as Noiz's bent hand traces down his chest. "Noiz," he murmurs. And then, "That's enough, your family is home--"

"Like they'll hear us in a house this big."

"That's--!"

"Anyway, they know you're my boyfriend," Noiz says. "I haven't hidden it. So if they go and listen at my room while I'm in here with you, it's not like they're hearing it by accident."

 _Maybe you shouldn't have told them_ he whispers to Aoba, who obligingly repeats it: "Hey, Noiz, just... maybe you shouldn't have told them? Your future is -- I mean--"

Noiz's fingers grab Aoba's chin roughly and lifts his face so they're staring into each other's eyes. Noiz's green eyes bore into him; he feels like it's him that Noiz is looking at, not Aoba. "Shut up," Noiz says. "Nobody wants to hear from you."

Aoba's eyes widen and his cheeks go red. "Wha-- Noiz--!"

"Not you," Noiz says, and kisses him, and if he wanted to say anything more, wanted to play his cards too fast and say something back, he couldn't, because Aoba's moaning and reaching up and giving in to Noiz, and there's no room for him to speak at all.

 

**.Four.**

Sometimes he wants to laugh, when he doesn't want to put his (Aoba's) head in his (Aoba's) hands and pull his hair until he cries. 

Nobody could have predicted this. He was Desire, and even he hadn't predicted that his draw to Mink would have allowed something this ludicrous to happen. Aoba, wrapped in a homespun wool blanket, dozing on a cot in a cabin in the woods, with Mink's scent of cinnamon hanging all around them, Mink's strong (brutal) fingers gently (why) stroking through Aoba's hair, unbraiding the braids he'd put in there earlier, smoothing out Aoba's hair on the pillow. It's a nighttime ritual they've developed half out of Aoba's own unfamiliarity with any hairstyle that wasn't a loose ponytail, and half because of how soothing Aoba finds it these days.

That's the odd part -- he has almost no room to claw out of Aoba around Mink because Aoba is so relaxed around him. It should be impossible, but he's almost completely shut out due both to Aoba's decision to seize his own self-determination, and Mink's choice to... not apologize, not atone, because how could he do either? But to _compensate_ , to shift the balance from the brutality of the past to simply behaving tenderly in the future and accepting whatever approach Aoba wished to take with him. It should have been an impossible combination -- he'd pushed so hard on Aoba's fascination with Mink, on his desire to understand Mink, entirely because he had been certain that it would have been a sick and twisted option, one that would throw Aoba down and let him rise.

But instead, Aoba is more comfortable than should have ever been possible, more confident and content and secure in his own choices and his own life, and instead of the rough, gouged handholds he expected to find that would let him climb his way to the surface, Aoba's walls are smooth and strong and there he is at the bottom again. 

It's awful. It spoils his fun. He'd had so many visions for how things would go if Aoba followed his instincts and went to find Mink, to love Mink -- brutal violence, pain, torture, pushing Aoba to the brink of death again and again, not this tenderness and acceptance and determination to accept the past as it was and move forward from it. Instead, it's this bullshit all the time, tender touches and reassurance and careful confirmation that Aoba is fine, and Aoba is comfortable, and Aoba's boundaries are being respected.

It's enough to drive a man crazy.

Still, he's not without _any_ pleasure -- Aoba may be calm and comfortable, but _Mink_ is afraid of him. Not of Aoba -- obviously. Mink's far too fine with Aoba; embarrassingly so. But Mink knows _he's_ in there still, and sometimes he manages, just briefly, just in the rare moments when Aoba's totally unware of it, to catch Mink's eye and give him a smile with an edge to it. Give him a look from beneath his eyelashes that said _Remember when? I'm yours to trash. Come get me._

"Leave him alone," Mink murmurs.

"Like you did?" he hisses back at Mink, and Aoba blinks, coming more fully awake, lifting a hand to cover Mink's where it still cups the side of his head. "Mink...? Did you say something?"

Mink is unaffected by his words, but troubled by his presence, just rests his hand there, brushes Aoba's cheek with his thumb and makes a small, dissatisfied noise.

It's not much, but it's the most havoc he can get up to these days.

 

**.Five.**

Reintegration isn't as easy as wanting to -- it's a start, and Desire doesn't feel the need to make a fuss anymore regardless. Aoba wraps around him and holds him close and knows, _understands_ ; even if their thoughts are still sometimes separate or run counter to each other, there's no need to try to strike out for attention. Desires are desires, and instincts are instincts, and during those moments where they split into two again, and Aoba hears him speaking separately, he mostly just pauses, thinks _hi_ at him, and, flustered, Desire thinks _hi_ back. 

_I'm wanted?_

_You're wanted. It's fine._

Usually that's enough to quiet down again. There is someone, though, he hasn't really talked to about this, and when he finds himself thinking about that, he nudges Aoba lightly, and Aoba stirs, understands without him having to explain, and moves over obligingly.

Desire rolls over, wraps an arm around Ren's back, and exhales into his neck.

"Mm," Ren sighs. "Aoba, what is it?"

"Restraint..."

Ren's breath catches and he tenses a little for a moment before rolling over so he can look Desire in the eye. He knows that, especially to Ren's eyes, he looks that slightly different from Aoba. Holds himself slightly differently. Narrows his eyes slightly differently. If anyone can tell it, it's Ren. "Desire," he says, cautiously.

Desire feels like laughing, so he does, softly, brushes his knuckles against Ren's cheek. "Is it weird? Being someone else?"

"Yes," Ren acknowledges. "It's weird."

"Do you love me?"

Ren's brows furrow. "Yes," he says. "I love all of Aoba."

"Except yourself."

"I'm not--" Ren begins, those brows still furrowed.

Desire feels like rubbing that line of worry away, so he does, running his thumb across Ren's forehead. "Well, never mind," he says. " _I_ love you," and then leans up to kiss him.

He doesn't think Ren will kiss back, not really -- even if Ren had been the one pushing for him and Aoba to meld again, in the old days, Ren had always been his opposition, the two of them holding each other at arm's length, and even if Ren _knows_ better than anyone that Desire and Aoba are just two parts of Aoba learning how to fit together with the gap where a third part isn't, Desire doubts Ren _feels_ that way -- but after a moment, Ren does, lips soft and accepting.

Desire thinks, _ah_ and Aoba gives an impression like nudging him, like giving him a mischievous grin and whispers _I told you, didn't I?_ and Desire just sinks back into Aoba, closes his eyes and lets Aoba tangle with Ren, wants, and wants, and wants for them to make love. And, of course, he feels Aoba's happiness, his contentment, when they do.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Five Boyfriends Reason Never Had](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133223) by [gammaray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gammaray/pseuds/gammaray)




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